Killer Dreams Read online

  “What an idiotic question. We can’t have police anywhere near the facility. Send some of our men to look around.”

  Gerald tried to keep Sanborne from seeing how the contempt in his voice stung. The more he came into contact with Sanborne the more the man irritated him. The son of a bitch had a God complex and was only diplomatic with the people he had to be. Well, let him think Gerald was his inferior. He would take Sanborne for everything he could and then walk away. “You actually believe she’d try to shoot you?”

  “Hell, yes.” Sanborne looked back down at the report. “If she can’t get me any other way. I’ve been expecting her to make a move since Senator Tipton refused to listen to her. She’s a desperate woman.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Gerald added quickly, “I didn’t come on board to become involved in anything violent. I just agreed to bring her to you if she agreed to a meeting with me.”

  “Why, Gerald, it’s Sophie Dunston who’s becoming violent,” Sanborne said silkily. “But what can you expect when you consider her unstable background. One should feel sorry for the poor woman. She has such burdens to bear that she must often feel suicidal.”

  Gerald gazed at him warily. “Suicidal?”

  “I’m sure that her coworkers would testify that she was under a strain. Her poor son, you know.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that it’s time to rid myself of that bitch. I’ve been biding my time because it would be too suspicious since she’s been so vocal among the FBI and political circles. And I thought I might be able to get some information I needed from her.” He tapped the report. “But this is making me uneasy. I may have to adjust my plans. The crazy woman might get lucky if those idiot security guards aren’t more efficient. I didn’t get this far marketing the project to have Sophie Dunston try to blow me out of the water.”

  Gerald raised his brows. “I can see how it would be a serious inconvenience.”

  Sanborne’s eyes narrowed. “Sarcasm, Gerald?”

  “No, of course not,” Gerald said quickly. “I just don’t know how—”

  “Of course you don’t. You’re out of your depth here. You’re hoping to skim the profit off our deal and keep your hands from getting dirty,” Sanborne said. “But I’d bet you wouldn’t mind looking the other way while Caprio got his hands dirty.”

  Caprio. Gerald had only met the man once since he’d started to work for Sanborne, but the mention was enough to cause him to instinctively stiffen warily. He imagined that ripple of uneasiness was the reaction most people felt for Caprio. “Perhaps.”

  “Caprio doesn’t mind a little dirt. He enjoys it.” Sanborne added, “And you’re already dirty. You embezzled over five hundred thousand dollars from your company and your ass would be in jail by now if I hadn’t given you the money to replace it.”

  “I would have found the money.”

  “In your Christmas stocking?”

  “I have contacts.” He moistened his lips. “I wasn’t afraid of being caught. I came to you because you offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse.”

  “The deal is still on the table. I might even sweeten it if you prove your value to me by delivering Sophie Dunston in the next week. In the meantime I’ll make a few moves of my own.” He reached for the telephone and dialed. “Lawrence, things are heating up. We may have to move fast.” He paused. “Tell Caprio I need to see him.”

  Chains cutting into his shoulders.

  Had to move. Had to get free.

  Oh, God.

  Blood!

  Royd jerked upright in bed, his eyes flying open. His heart was pounding and he was coated with sweat.

  He shook his head to clear it and swung his feet to the floor. Just another bitchin’ nightmare. Block it out. It wouldn’t bring Todd back and it only filled him with anger and frustration.

  He stood up, grabbed his canteen, and left his tent. He dumped the water on his face and took a deep breath. It was almost morning and time to go after Fredericks. If the rebels hadn’t decided to make an example of him and already blown his head off.

  He hoped to God they hadn’t. From what he’d heard from Soldono, his contact with the CIA, Fredericks was a pretty decent guy for a CEO. Which didn’t mean shit in this world. Power was the name of the game and nice guys did finish last if they didn’t have the muscle to protect themselves. Fredericks did have the muscle, and his bodyguards had to have either been inefficient or bribed by—

  His cell phone rang. Soldono telling him the rescue was scratched?

  “Royd.”

  “Nate Kelly. Sorry to call you this early but I’ve just gotten back from the facility. I think I’ve got it. Do you have time for me?”

  He stiffened. “Talk and talk fast. I have to get moving in a few minutes.”

  “This won’t take more than a few minutes. I located the initial experimental REM-4 records. No formulas. They must keep them somewhere else. But three names. Sanborne, your favorite, General Boch, and one more.”

  “Who?”

  “Dr. Sophie Dunston.”

  “A woman? Who the hell is she?”

  “I don’t know yet. I haven’t had time to investigate. I called you right away. But her file was cross-referenced to a current file. I was going to go through it but I had to get out of the file room quick.”

  “Then she’s still involved.”

  “It would seem that’s an affirmative.”

  “I want to know everything about her.”

  “I’ll do my best. But they’re moving everything at the facility out within the next week. I don’t know how long I’ll have access to the record room.”

  Shit. “A week?”

  “That’s the scuttlebutt.”

  “I’ve got to have that information. I can’t touch Boch or Sanborne unless I get those REM-4 research records too. It has to be a package deal. But the woman might be a lead if I can get my hands on her.”

  “And what will you do with her?”

  “Find out everything she knows.”

  “And then?”

  “What do you think? Do you actually believe because she’s a woman that I’d let her out from under?”

  Kelly was silent a moment. “No, I guess not.”

  “That’s because you’re not a fool. Can you get the information about her before they jerk the files?”

  “If I work fast and they don’t nail me.”

  “Do it.” He spoke slowly, enunciating every word clearly. “I haven’t searched for REM-4 for years to be put off now. I want to know everything about Sophie Dunston. I need her. And I’m going to have her.”

  “I’ll go back tonight. I’ll meet you at Washington National Airport tomorrow with whatever I can gather.”

  “I can’t be there tomorrow.” He thought about it. He was tempted to blow this job and toss it back to the CIA, but it was too late. By the time they got through hemming and hawing, Fredericks would be dead. “Give me a week.”

  “I can’t promise she’ll still be around by then. If Boch and Sanborne are moving out, she may be meeting them.”

  Royd muttered a curse. “Two days. I have to have at least two days. Find her and call me if it looks like she’s taking off. Keep her on ice until I get there.”

  “Are you suggesting I kidnap her?”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “I’ll consider it. Two days. Phone me when you board your flight to Washington.” He hung up.

  REM-4.

  Royd pressed the disconnect, frustration searing through him. Jesus. He was coming so close but this was the first real break he’d gotten in the last three years. And it came at a time when he had to be tied up with Fredericks.

  Two days.

  He started to throw on his clothes. Get Fredericks out of here and get on that plane. No time for mistakes. No time for games. He’d get Fredericks away from the rebels today if he had to napalm a path through the whole jungle between here and Bogotá.

  And he’d damn well be in Washington sooner than the two days for which he’d bargained.

  Just don’t let her get away, Kelly.

  Michael’s scream tore through the house at the same time the monitor went off on Sophie’s bedside table.

  In seconds Sophie was on her feet and running toward his bedroom.

  He screamed again before she reached his bed.

  “Michael, it’s all right.” She sat down on the bed and shook him. His eyes opened dazedly and she gathered him close. “It’s all right, you’re safe.” It wasn’t all right. It was never all right. She could feel his heart, throbbing, jumping erratically. He was shaking as if he had malaria. “It’s over.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes.” Her arms tightened around him. “You okay?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. It always took a few minutes for him to recover even when they caught the terror before he sank all the way into it. “Sure.” His voice was uneven. “I’m sorry that you—I should be stronger, shouldn’t I?”

  “No, you’re very, very strong. I know grown men who have these terrors and you do much better than they do.” She drew a little away and brushed the hair back from his face. Tears were running down his cheeks, but she didn’t try to wipe them away. She’d learned to ignore them to avoid embarrassing him. It was a small thing, but all she could do to save his pride when he was so dependent on her. “I keep telling you it’s not a question of weakness. It’s an illness that has to be cured. I know your pain and I’m very proud of you.” She paused. “There’s only one thing that would make me prouder. If you’d talk to me about them…”

  He looked away from her. “I don’t remember.”

  It was a lie and they both knew it. It was true that night-terror victims often didn’t remember the content of their dreams, but Michael’s had to be connected to that day on the pier. Just the way he behaved when she asked him about it was a sign that he did recall them. “It would help you, Michael.”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay, maybe next time.” She stood up. “How about a cup of hot chocolate?”

  “It’s four-thirty. You have to work today, don’t you?”

  “I’ve had enough sleep.” She headed for the door. “You go wash your face and I’ll make the chocolate.” He was pale and this had been a bad one. Jesus, she hoped he didn’t throw up. “Kitchen. Ten minutes, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He had a little color back in his cheeks when he sat down at the table five minutes later. “Dad called me yesterday afternoon.”

  “That’s nice.” She poured the hot chocolate into the two mugs and added marshmallows on the top. “How is he?”

  “Pretty good, I guess.” He took a drink. “I’m coming home Saturday night. He and Jean are going out of town. I told him that it was okay with me. I’d rather come home and be with you anyway.”

  “I’m glad. I miss you.” She sat down and cradled the cup in her cold hands. “But why? You like Jean, don’t you?”

  “Sure. She’s neat. But I think she and Dad like to be alone. Newlyweds do, don’t they?”

  “Sometimes. But they’ve been married almost six months and I’m sure there’s room for you in their lives.”

  “Maybe.” He took another drink and looked down at his chocolate. “Is it my fault, Mom?”

  “Is what your fault?”

  “You and Dad.”

  She had been waiting for him to ask that question since Dave and she had separated. She was glad that he had finally let it come out. “The divorce? No way. We were just different people. We got married in college when we were kids and we changed when we got older. It happens to lots of couples.”

  “But you guys argued a lot about me. I heard you.”

  “Yes, we did. But we argued a lot about most things. And that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have gotten a divorce anyway.”

  “Honest?”

  She reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Honest.”

  “And it’s all right if I like Jean?”

  “It’s great that you like Jean. She makes your dad very happy. That’s important.” She took a paper napkin and wiped the melted marshmallow from his mouth. “And she’s nice to you. That’s even more important.”

  He was silent a moment. “Dad says Jean’s a little nervous about my nightmares. I think that’s why they don’t want me to stay overnight.”

  That bastard. He’d passed the buck to Jean so that he’d come out smelling like a rose. She forced a smile. “She’ll get used to them. Heck, she may not have to get used to them. Like you said, they don’t come every night any longer. You’re getting better and better.”

  He nodded and was silent a moment. “He asked me about Jock.”

  She sipped her drink. “Really? You told him about Jock?”

  “Sure. I mentioned him a couple times the last time Dad and I went to the movies.”

  “What did he want to know?”

  He grinned. “He asked what he was doing here at the house all the time. I think he thought there was something mushy going on.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him the truth. That Jock was your cousin and he was only in town looking for a job.”

  It was the truth as far as Michael knew. She’d had to concoct a logical story when Jock had shown up. “Lucky for us,” she said. “Jock’s been a great help, hasn’t he? You like him, don’t you?”

  His smile faded as he nodded. “You know, it kind of embarrasses me to have strangers around when I have bad dreams. But I don’t feel like that with Jock. It’s like…he knows.”

  Jock did know. No one could know that torment better. “Maybe he does. Jock is a pretty sensitive guy.” She stood up. “You finished? I’ll wash your cup.”

  “I’ll do it.” He got to his feet and took his cup and her own to the sink. “You made the chocolate. Fair’s fair.”

  But there wasn’t anything fair about what Michael was going through, she thought bitterly. “That’s right. Thanks. Are you ready to go back to bed?”

  “I guess so.”

  She searched his face. “No guessing about it. If you’re not ready, we’ll sit around and talk. Maybe watch a DVD.”

  “I’m ready.” He smiled at her. “You go back to bed. I’ll fasten myself up to the monitor.” He grimaced. “I’ll be glad when I can do without it. I feel like something from a science-fiction movie.”

  She tensed. “It’s necessary, Michael. You can’t do without it. Maybe in a few weeks, we’ll be able to do without the thumb pulse-ox.”

  He nodded and looked away from her as he headed for the door. “I know. I was just talking. I don’t want to do without it yet. It gets pretty scary. ’Night, Mom.”

  “Good night.”

  She watched him walk down the hall. He looked so small and vulnerable in those blue flannel pajamas.

  He was vulnerable.

  Vulnerable to pain and terror and even death.

  Pretty scary?

  Terrifying.

  And he was managing to deal with it and survive. She had told him she was proud of him, but that was an understatement. He fought the confusion, threat of death, and ugliness with a courage that amazed her. Any other boy would have been beaten down, crushed, and completely destroyed by the punishment Michael took.

  Jesus, she hoped the terror didn’t come back tonight.

  “You look tired,” Kelly said as he watched Royd stride out of customs at Washington National. “Did I push you a bit?”

  “I pushed myself,” he said curtly. “And, hell yes, I’m tired. I’ve gotten maybe three hours’ sleep in the last two days.”

  He looked it, Kelly thought. Royd’s broad, high-cheekboned face always had an expression of tenseness and alertness, but his dark eyes were strained and glittering restlessly and his mouth was tense. In the worn jeans and khaki shirt he wore, his big, powerful body looked as if it should belong to a lumberjack. “As it played out, they’re not moving as fast as I thought they would,” Kelly said. “You could have taken a little more time.”

  “No, I couldn’t. It was driving me crazy.” Royd asked, “What did you find out about her?”

  “Not much. Everyone at the facility is pulling twelve-hour shifts to get ready for the move and I was only able to get to the current file room once. She’s a sleep therapist and practices at Fentway University Hospital.”

  “Sleep therapist.” His lips tightened. “Oh, yes, that would fit. Do you have an address?”

  Kelly nodded. “She has a house in a suburb of Baltimore. Close to the hospital.”

  “And close to the facility?”

  “Right.” He paused. “You’re definitely going after her?”

  “I told you I was. Did you find out anything else?”

  “Not really. She’s divorced and has a ten-year-old son.”

  “Is there anyone else in the house?”

  Kelly shrugged. “I told you my info was scanty. I’ve been too busy to stake her out. It would be better if you wait until I can find out—”

  “And risk her flying the coop?” He shook his head. “I’m moving now. Do you have a photo?”

  “An old one from the personnel records.” Kelly reached into his pocket and handed him a photocopy. “Nice-looking.”

  Royd glanced at the photo. “Yes, do you know if she sleeps with Sanborne?”

  “I told you that I haven’t had a chance to—”

  “I know. I know. Just a thought. When you’re checking, look into it.” Kelly had paused beside a car and Royd gazed at the photo as Kelly unlocked it. “Maybe not. She looks like she’d be hard to push around and he’s into sexual power games. He killed a prostitute in Tokyo a few years ago.”

  “Charming. You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. There’s not much I don’t know about Sanborne. Check it anyway.” Royd got into the car. “Are you going back to the facility?”

  Kelly nodded. “That’s what you’re paying me for. Things are in a bit of a turmoil with the move. I might get a break.”

  “And you might get your neck chopped.”